


Towards Tomorrow

by Findarato



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 09:07:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8973496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Findarato/pseuds/Findarato
Summary: Chizuru, that’s pretty admirable. But then again, from the get-go, you managed to interest me.
Written for 2016's HakuoukiSecretSanta.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kitsuraki](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Kitsuraki).



> Spoilers: Some for Heiuske’s route, slight spoilers for Reimeiroku  
> -written in first person pov  
> -My secret santa said her favourite character is Heisuke, and she had one prompt that stuck out to me:  
> “The scene where Heisuke goes into Chizuru’s room (it wasn’t confirmed that he actually went in there; in fact he denied it, but I want to believe) when he went to her house in the game. What happened there is up to you!”
> 
> That's the part of him where I drew inspiration for this fic.

**.**

I've never been in a girl's house, much less her respective room. The room at the Shinsengumi didn't count because I've seen it and it is empty of anything that was her personality.

Needless to say, I very deliberately ignored that section of the house as he looked over the other things. Medical supplies, a lot of books and papers, all neatly put away. The kitchen, very empty and dusty. Futons that were faded and smelled musty. I can't make sense of the papers, so I try to put them back the best I can.

I do go into her room, last.

It's smaller, smaller than the other rooms. But the window more than makes up for it. At first I wanted to stand there, like it would help me understand Chizuru better if I were in her place, looking out the window, but then I sneezed. So much for being reverent.

It's not much to look at.

There's a painting on the wall, a table, an empty vase, and a few books. I tried one drawer and it was filled clothes, faded like the rest of the fabrics in this house. They're more vibrant than what she currently wears, but I wonder what she would think if I brought some back to her…except no, because that'd give away the fact I've been in her room. Isn't this creepy? Sort of? She did give me permission to check on her house.

More drawers. Oh, letters. Mostly from Koudou, but there's no point in looking at them.

What am I even searching for, anyway? The signs of inhabitation are here, and this isn't an abandoned house. She's not going to be with the Shinsengumi forever, after all. This is all just temporary…

I almost rattle through the next drawer without looking, and come upon a book. So girls _did_ keep diaries. Maybe. This book is very nondescript, without decoration. It's interesting when I press my nail against the pages, watching them flutter in a uniform way. Her writing is simple, neat, and tiny, but it fills all the pages. She doesn't leave much space between entries except a small blank.

Did all girls write like this, or just her?

…

I should put the book down and leave. That would be the proper thing to do.

Instead, I'm sitting down, and opening up to the first page. It might help in understanding her. Helping her. Or maybe it's just my own damn curiosity about this girl that showed up on Kyoto, and we just happened to run into her, and found we out she had ties to Koudou. Those things don't happen every day.

I must've stared at the wood pattern in the desk for a minute before I finally read.

The first entry is dated to three years ago, and that makes thirteen…and when she first started writing.

> _Father received several notebooks from a friend, and as a gift for my birthday, he offered one for me to choose. I almost couldn't, because there were three colours: blue, purple, pink. I finally just closed my eyes, and my hand landed on the purple one. Apparently some girls begin keeping journals now, and I guess my time has come as well._
> 
> _Life is ordinary enough. I have lessons, and during my free time I talk to others and enjoy time with my friends, or I help my father. He's always busy, but he has no assistants. I've asked him why doesn't he take on an apprentice, but he says that he's a terrible teacher. I suppose he is, because I once tried to look at his notes—they're pretty messy. It's a good thing I take care of the rest of the house. I always have. I remember patients visiting when I was younger, and some of them would whisper about the state of this house, and it made me feel bad. Father is too busy, so it falls to me. I don't mind it, because seeing a place clean is satisfying._
> 
> _I want to be of more help to Father though. I wonder when I'll be old enough. He sometimes speaks about marriage to me, but he doesn't appear to be in a hurry. He hasn't mentioned a dowry yet, or a potential husband. Sometimes I wonder if I even want to. Tomemi was fifteen. I don't know if I would be ready at that age, though any time I talk about this, all the wives and grandmothers laugh or give me a knowing look._
> 
> _Maybe it's because of how I was raised. There has only been Father, and my memory doesn't go back very far. I don't remember my mother at all. The only thing I have to remember her by is her sword, which I'm not allowed to touch yet. Nothing else of her survives, except what I can see in my own face. Father doesn't speak of her at all, and I don't ask._
> 
> _I might be a little scared of finding out. I've heard rumours about how my father showed up and set up his practice, out of the blue. He brought me here and hired a nursemaid and a housekeeper for a while. Everyone gossips, so I try not to listen too much, but at least they respect him._
> 
> _Will people respect me the way they respect him? Can I even do things to have people respect me? I've been told I'm sometimes too eager too help, or too nice. I still don't think it's a bad thing. I might be young, but I want to understand people._
> 
> _This is probably too long of a first entry, isn't it. But I like how writing my thoughts down makes things clearer. I'll be doing this more often._

Damn. Chizuru wrote _that_ when she was _thirteen?_ At that age I was beating up anyone that called me short, and I'd come home covering in dirt and bruises. Usually I won though. But here's Chizuru, writing in such a…well, refined way. A thoughtful way.

She's really too nice to be in the Shinsengumi. What the hell.

And it goes on. Page after page. I don't even know how I was there, but it's long enough that my knees are numb and my back and neck hurt from bending over (because I usually don't read for these long periods), but I guess I'm interested.

She writes…so much. Her friends, her father, her father's patients…what stands out is that there isn't a mean comment. Sure, she's got opinions (she said this one guy 'probably eats sticks every day because of the useless words he spews out'), but she seems to be always looking for silver lining. Has this girl ever punched anyone? Insulted someone to their face? If I had a dictionary, she'd probably be the picture next to the definition of "nice."

But it's not just the nice, it's the caring. Every person she talks about is mentioned in detail and how she knows them and their circumstances. In between entries are little notes, like helping her father or things for other people. Favours are always returned. Congratulations were always given.

Meticulous. That's the word I would for her.

When it's gotten so dark I need a lamp, I'm not even hungry, I just want to see the end of this.

It comes when I get the entry that's dated right before she leaves for Kyoto.

> _I've made up my mind._
> 
> _Some people are calling me insane, but I can't sit still anymore. Each day, when I wake up, my own room feels like a prison. I've paced too much, cleaned too much, worried too much. If my letter won't reach him, then surely my feet can. Kyoto is hard but it's a well-travelled path, and I've already obtained travel documents thanks to my father's connections. It doesn't matter what the neighbours think. I'll miss my friends, and I'll even miss this house, but I have to go._
> 
> _The only thing stopping me would be myself. This will be the first time I'll be walking outside with a weapon, and I'm more unsure of that than the actual journey. I've never used it; I've only had a few lessons. If my father is held hostage, I don't think I would win a fight like this. No, I never even thought about winning anything. I'm simply worried about his wellbeing, if he's eating enough, or getting enough sleep. Maybe the work he was sent to do has reached a point where's he's not allowed to interact with people from outside, not even kin._
> 
> _I've reread his last letter so many times that the paper is falling apart. He sounded so distant. Does he miss me as much as I miss him? I've written a final letter to tell him that I'm visiting, but he probably won't see it._
> 
> _I want to see him._
> 
> _I want to know if he thinks I've grown in absence as well. I can't run his clinic, but I kept in touch with his long-term patients, and everyone has been looking out for me. I can't keep relying on them and become a burden._
> 
> _More than anything, I don't want to be useless or lost. I've considered marrying, but I don't want to do it without his blessing. This is something I have to do. I've never travelled this far, but I'm not afraid of that part. I'm afraid of what might have changed or what might have happened to him. I want to know that he's alive, at the very least, because if he isn't, I would need to find a new direction in life. As for returning here, I don't know when that would happen. Either I'll come back with Father, or I'll come back alone. Or maybe I won't ever return._
> 
> _I won't be bringing this journal with me because there isn't space, but it feels appropriate, seeing how this part of my life is now over, and I'm starting something new._
> 
> _When I get to Kyoto, I'll buy another book, and hopefully at the end of it, my father will be there. But even if he isn't, I hope I'll have answered some questions about myself. They say journeys change people, and I'm willing to believe that._

There's only a few pages blank, and no signature. This wasn't meant to be read by anyone, after all. It's just some words, ordinary enough, written by an ordinary girl.

Or maybe it's not so ordinary. It feels as if I've done more than intrude on the house…I've intruded on Chizuru, haven't I. Not with any ill intentions, but I hadn't asked for permission, either. This at least confirms she's not a spy…she really did just end up in the wrong place at the wrong time, and her father happened to be Yukimura Koudou.

I think it's probably close to midnight by the time I leave and…I have new respect for her. Not just for the writing, but for the person she is. Is she still writing? Did anyone even give her tools to write with?

Maybe we should give her more freedom. She's expressed so many times in her writing how she can't stand sitting around. I don't think we're cruel, but we're not…kind. Maybe we forgot the needs for it. I don't count how many people I've killed, much less how many times people called me cold-blooded. Killing's a necessity, and we had a job to do. Something to protect.

Where and when did a girl, this particular girl, with so much kindness, fit in this equation? Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. So why do I feel the need to apologise to her, or…something?. At least make some things better for her situation? She's a virtual prisoner, and can't even go about her normal daily life. Is that fair?

When I look back at the house, in the dark it blends in with the rest of the houses, with the only thing setting it apart being the sign on the door. It's like Chizuru; you wouldn't be able to pick her out of a crowd. But if she were set apart, like she is in her current situation, she sticks out.

I feel bad for her, but I don't have the power, or the right to help. Hell, I wouldn't even be feeling this way if I hadn't gone sneaking into things.

 _"_ _They say journeys change people, and I'm willing to believe that."_

It's not yielding that she's talking about, or about giving in.

It's adaptation. I can see it happening even now. She's only been with us for all but a few months, and things were already changing and moving, both inside and outside of the Shinsengumi

So…if I were in her place, could I be so versatile, that clear-minded?

Had Chizuru been a man, she would've been a good fit in the Shinsengumi. Not even as a fighter; as a supporter. She's got more resolve than some of the people I've been scouting out, if I'm being blunt. A lot of people think they're going to be famous or be recognised by joining us, and while that's true, it's not just that. Why else does Kondou-san put so much into our banner, the sign of "sincerity"? Because he's looking for people who are like that.

Haha, what am I thinking?

All of this, from reading her diary? When did words influence me this much? Even someone stubborn as me…

Chizuru, that's pretty admirable. But then again, from the get-go, you managed to interest me.

I'm sorry about your father. I probably won't ever tell you that I raised my sword against him, to make a promise. I don't think I knew what I was getting into back then, and now, life is an even bigger mountain to climb.

But I hope, as a whole, the Shinsengumi won't let you down as you watch us.

I want to help you, even if I think I suck at that. Shinpattsu and Sano-san are better with girls than me, but we're so close in age…that counts for something.

Whatever I can do, I'll do it.

**.end.**


End file.
